


Sounds Like October

by LinneaKou



Series: Whistling Past the Graveyard [3]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ghost Hunters, Gen, Ghosts, POV Third Person Limited, Possession, Pre-Slash, Psychic Abilities
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-19
Updated: 2015-10-19
Packaged: 2018-04-27 01:52:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5029117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LinneaKou/pseuds/LinneaKou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Steve and Wanda need to find new premises for their paranormal service, Tony has a solution. And, as it turns out, he has a solution to another problem plaguing Steve...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sounds Like October

**Author's Note:**

> An early Happy Halloween to you all! I haven't forgotten this AU!
> 
> Thanks to Stacie for the beta. Sorry about Rickrolling you.

When Tony showed up at the office for his session, he was utterly surprised to find everyone packing things into boxes and looking fairly glum. "What the hell happened?"

Clint grimaced at him and jerked his chin at the opposite wall. "Neighbors complained. Neighbors complained again. Neighbors complained so much that we couldn't get the lease renewed."

Tony frowned and poked his head out of the door, eyeing the neighbors Clint was indicating. "The... massage parlor..." He made a face. "Okay, if that isn't a front for a dirty prostitution ring, I don't know what it is."

"It doesn't matter," Natasha answered. "We got kicked out."

Tony looked the place over, and after almost a year of coming in and working with Steve and Wanda, the lack of furnishings was like a slap in the face. "Do you guys have anywhere to go? To work out of?"

"We're working on it," Clint grunted, hefting a box full of equipment onto a dolly. "But right now the rates are pretty awful."

Tony made a noise that probably could be taken as disingenuous if one didn't know him well, then waggled his eyebrows at the two of them. "Well, how about the Mansion?"

They both dropped what they were holding and stared at him. "Say again?" Natasha demanded, her eyes wide.

Tony shrugged. "The place is empty except for me and Jarvis. And a few Roombas, but they just don't have the same feel. I have plenty of space... Wanda could have a parlor all to herself, and there's a sitting room right by the front door, and a really nice office for Steve. I could convert the smoking room into a tech center."

"Holy shit on a stick, dude, I will love you forever," Clint said passionately, looking like he meant every word of it.

Tony grinned. "Well then, pack up that van and prepare for takeoff. I'll go chat with the Fearless Leader."

Nat smiled at him, a genuine smile, and Clint suddenly moved in for a bro-hug.

"Thanks, man," Clint said, thumping Tony on the back. "You are... I dunno what you are but you're awesome."

"I am pretty sure I'm just psychic," Tony said, and the others laughed.

They resumed packing up the van and Tony slipped into the hallway. Wanda's room had been emptied, and it looked barren and sad without her ethereal touch.

Tony sighed and shook his head as he moved into Steve's office.

The desk had been removed, along with all the files and papers, and Steve was carefully, reverently stacking framed photos in a box. One glance told Tony everything he needed to know; they were of his platoon and friends in the Army.

Tony cleared his throat. "Hey."

Steve looked up from the photo in his hand. "Oh, Tony. Hey." He smiled, but it was more like a grimace. "Uh, is it okay if we hold off on your sessions while we... figure this out?"

"Sure, except we already did." Tony grinned at his friend-slash-psychic-mentor. "You guys will be based out of the Mansion because the the landlord won't complain about all manners of ghostly drop-ins at any given hour, yeah?"

Steve's jaw dropped. "You... you can't be serious."

Tony shrugged. "I've been thinking about it for a while, I guess this is the sign I needed."

"Tony... we can't possibly--"

"Yes," Tony interrupted, "yes you can possibly, you can definitely, in fact. I insist. The old place is too empty for my liking, and I rarely use any rooms other than the den and the basement lab."

Steve's eyebrows came together. "What about all the clients and all the equipment--"

"Steve." Tony moved to stand in front of him and put a hand on his shoulder. "I've already considered all of that. It's fine. I mean it."

Steve looked ready to protest when Bucky spoke up.

_For Chrissake, Stevie, just take it!_

Tony laughed and shook Steve's shoulder gently. "See? You should listen to your Guide."

Bucky sent a feeling of enthusiastic agreement and Steve sighed. "Clint and Nat?"

"Loading up the van, or else en route to the Mansion as we speak. What about Wanda?"

"Yes, what about Wanda," the lady herself said as she glided in, curly hair bouncing over her shoulders.

"Just the girl I needed to see!" Tony said, accepting a hug. "Which room do you want for your sessions? I would recommend the parlor on the first floor, personally. The drawing room has a drafty window that I am still getting fixed."

"Ooh, that parlor sounds lovely. I am still eager to get the tour you keep promising me." Wanda looped one arm through Tony's and her other arm through Steve's. "Steve, don't tell me you're resisting this."

Steve blinked at her. "How did you know he offered?"

"Natasha informed me." Wanda smiled sweetly at him. "I kind of knew we would be all right, but it is a relief to have it confirmed."

Steve sighed, his magnificent shoulders slumping in defeat.

"Let's load the rest of our things in the van, and then be off before that unpleasant man that owns the parlor next door can have time to jeer at us, shall we?" Wanda squeezed their elbows and then left the room to go pick up her belongings.

"My car is parked around the corner," Tony said. "I'll give you two a ride, since the van is stuffed."

"Okay," Steve agreed. "Tell Clint and Nat to meet us there?"

"You got it."

The remaining bits and bobs from the office fit perfectly in Tony's trunk and backseat, leaving just enough space for Wanda and Steve. Once they were all settled and the landlord had repossessed the keys, Tony pulled away from the curb for the last time.

"I'm actually going to miss that place," Steve murmured, and Wanda reached up into the front seat to pat him on the shoulder.

"Well, we'll have to make awesome new memories and attachments to the Mansion," Tony declared.

Wanda laughed delightedly and Steve snorted, clearly remembering the last time they had been at the old Stark homestead, some eight months ago while investigating the ghosts of Tony's parents. That case had wrapped up after Tony’s business partner and father-figure had tried to rob and kill him. Tony had also been physically possessed by his long-dead father, which was totally not awkward to think of.

Of course, Tony was trying very hard not to remember his… less-than-golden childhood in the Mansion. Not awkward at all.

Steve and Wanda seemed to pick up on it, and Tony rolled his eyes. “Nope, I’m fine. Don’t worry.”

“If you’re not comfortable--” Steve started to say, and Tony, safely stopped at a red light, turned to give him the stinkeye.

“Steve. I am actively trying to move on from my past. Baby steps, okay?”

“That’s a fantastic outlook,” Wanda commented, smiling softly.

“See?” Tony waggled his eyebrows at Steve. “I’m maturing.”

Steve snorted again and rested his head back against the seat as the light turned green and Tony accelerated through the intersection.  
  


The CAP Investigation crew was given its name by Tony, after hearing Bucky refer to Steve as “Cap” and “Captain America” multiple time. Tony had then coined the phrase “Captain America Paranormal Investigations” and Clint had run with it, and then the name had stuck. Steve had been unamused.

In any case, the CAP crew unpacked the van and Tony’s car in an afternoon and managed to move all of the equipment into various room, for setup later.

Steve and Tony eventually broke away from the group to duck into the drawing room for a meditation session. Tony found he was able to practice controlling his… “gifts”... when he was around Steve.

Over the past few months, Steve and Wanda had determined that Tony was clairaudient - he was capable of hearing spirit voices and the inner monologues of those around him, but it was much harder for him to see things. He also had channeling abilities - both Steve and Wanda were spiritual mediums, capable of communicating with the dead, but Tony had an unusual aptitude to allow spirits to possess his body and speak through him. He wasn’t always comfortable with that, for obvious reasons - the first time it had happened, a female ghost had used his body to try and seduce Steve. (Not that Tony could really blame her… Steve was really easy on the eyes. Too bad he was determinedly not interested.)

Steve was clairvoyant - he constantly saw things, to the point that he occasionally started talking to empty air without realizing his conversation partner wasn’t living. Of course, Tony caught onto what was happening because he could pick up on the spirit’s responses. Still, Steve apparently had a reputation on the subway.

Wanda was the traditional variety of medium - she operated through her mind’s eye and ear, and often received messages in the form of image riddles and codes. More often than not, she picked up on emotions and impressions, and used that to help her clients. She had other talents that were less… sensory; Tony had observed firsthand her startling psychokinetic abilities, including the ability to push and pull objects from across the room, along with her odd talent at hypnotising and influencing others’ thoughts and actions (which she didn’t do very often, due to something that had happened years ago that not even Steve knew the full story of.) She was truly formidable, which made her generally serene disposition even more impressive.

All three of them were empaths, sensing and sometimes being overtaken by foreign emotions. Tony had found that out the hard way when Pepper accidentally transferred her bad mood to him and he unexpectedly ended up curled up under his desk and crying for no reason. He’d been working one minute and then he’d been overwhelmed by agony and misery right out of nowhere. Pepper had been exceedingly apologetic, but it had bizarrely lasted a while after they’d figured out what was going on. Steve and Wanda reassured him that they’d gone through this as well, so he shouldn’t feel badly, but still. He wasn’t in control of his damn emotions, and the board wouldn’t be as understanding if he lost it in public.

Hence, Steve had started working with him to shield his mind and “personal energies”. It was probably the most frustrating thing Tony had ever had to learn. He was certainly improving, but not as quickly as he preferred.

He and Steve were both seated in comfortable wingback chairs, and he was in a semi-trance, his eyes closed and head tilted back against the cushion. His breathing was rhythmic and even, and Steve had stopped talking, sitting in contemplative silence, when the temperature of the room dropped very suddenly.

Steve picked up on the shift immediately, sitting up with a small grunt, and Tony could hear him moving around. He couldn’t bring himself to do the same - his entire body felt like it was made of lead, and his eyelids were heavy. All he could seem to do was keep breathing.

“Hello?” Steve asked into the silent room, and suddenly it felt like someone had yanked the chair out from under Tony, and he was falling backwards--

And then he was standing to the side, watching his own body breathe in and out.

 _Huh,_  he thought. He’d gone under and fallen out of his own body. This didn't usually happen...

 _Hello, Anthony,_ a female voice whispered in his mind.  _Would it be quite all right if I borrowed your voice for a moment?_

He had no idea what exactly was going on, but he was strangely not worried as he consented; all he could do was watch as his own eyes opened and fixed on Steve.

 _Master Tony,_  Jarvis’s voice said in his “ear”, _you’ve nothing to fear. Everything is quite all right._

“Hello, soldier,” the ghost in Tony’s body said, twisting his voice into a lilting British accent.

Steve sat down very suddenly, pale and wide-eyed. “Peggy.”

Tony watched as his own lips quirked into a small, semi-pouty smile. “So you _do_  remember what I sounded like.”

Steve was frozen, like a deer in headlights.

“Sorry for suddenly dropping in like this, but you have been ignoring me for a long while. Your mother as well.”

Steve’s mouth worked, but no words came out.

Peggy tilted Tony’s head and leaned forward, liquid and smooth like that of someone who was well aware of how to move in such a way that a hot-blooded American boy had to take notice.

“This fish act is not very becoming, Steve,” Peggy said, amused.

“Could--” Steve coughed, looking abashed. “Could you possibly leave Tony’s body? He doesn’t like it when people possess him.”

Tony, who had been watching with some fascination, immediately indicated to Peggy that she should keep talking. Something about Steve’s reaction made him think that the other man had been putting it off for a while. He was getting some sense of what Peggy had been to Steve, through some odd spiritual osmosis - being out-of-body was resulting in a lot of mental images that were very telling of Peggy and Steve’s relationship.

Peggy looked at Steve and shook Tony’s head. “He’s telling me to keep at it.”

“Really?” Steve raised an eyebrow, confused and worried.

Tony did the mental equivalent of a snort at him and thought, as loudly as he could, _you’d really turn down this lovely lady?_

Steve’s eyes widened and Peggy actually laughed, a higher-pitched sound than his normal laugh. “I appreciate the compliment.”

“Tony?” Steve said, looking around. His eyes passed over Tony and then he did a double-take. “Oh my God.”

Tony shifted, something changed, and then he was behind Steve and looking at his body face-on, and Steve was radiating discomfort and nervousness.

“Steve,” Peggy said soothingly, “it’s all right. Calm down.”

“Where’s Tony?” Steve asked, clearly frightened.

“He’s still here. He wants you to focus on me.”

Tony silently agreed, echoed the sentiment.

Steve visibly forced himself to relax and gulped. “Okay, I’m focused.”

Peggy’s expression softened, and she reached out with Tony’s hand and touched Steve’s knee. “Steve, it’s been years. It’s time for you to move on from me.”

 _They were engaged to be married,_  Tony heard Bucky mutter. _He hasn’t gotten over it._

Tony felt an immense sense of sadness sweep through him, overwhelming him. _I’m so sorry._  He’d never really managed to talk to Steve about his near-death experience. His… “heart” ached for his friend.

“There’s no need to be sorry,” Steve said stiffly. “And I don’t need to get over anything.”

“I’d beg to differ,” Peggy retorted, without any heat. “You can’t seem to tell that this perfectly lovely gentleman has been trying to reach out to you for months, and he seems to think you’re not interested.”

Steve blushed, reddening like a ripe tomato. “That is not the point--”

“Steve,” Peggy said softly. “Steve, I’ll always love you. But you still have a lot of life ahead of you, and you’re not meant to be lonely.”

Steve wilted, like a puppet whose strings had been cut. “It still hurts,” he said, his voice rough and harsh and utterly shattered.

Peggy put Tony’s hand to his head, ran the fingers through his golden hair. “You need to let yourself feel it, darling,” she said gently. “You need to truly grieve. You deserve it.”

Steve’s shoulders began to shake, and utterly broken sobs wracked his body.

“Shh,” Peggy drew him into an embrace. “It’ll be alright, all will be well.”

“I miss you,” Steve gasped. “I miss you every damn day, and I wish you were still with me--”

“I’ll always be with you, you beautiful fool,” Peggy smiled sadly. “Just not in the way we’d envisioned it.”

Steve cried some more, and Tony stood like a silent sentinel over the scene for what felt like hours as Peggy held him, still borrowing his form.

Eventually, Steve’s breathing evened out, and Peggy gently laid him back in the other chair. He was out cold, having cried himself into exhaustion.

Peggy sat back in Tony’s wingback and breathed deeply. “I miss being able to do that,” she said aloud, then smiled in Tony’s direction. “Thank you for allowing me to do this.”

 _Happy to, for once,_  Tony answered, and her smile grew even bigger.

“I quite approve of you for him,” she said, and before Tony could question what the hell that even meant, she pulled him back into his body and disappeared.

Tony jerked back into physical awareness, his head bouncing off the backing of the chair, and winced. “Oh, great,” he grumbled as his entire body quaked. One downside to channeling spirits: the utter drain on his energy. He still managed to get onto shaky footing and made his way haltingly to the drawing room door - the others were still in the house, setting up.

“Hey, guys?” he called down the hallway. There was a moment of silence, and then Natasha shouted back, “what?”

“Uh, could I get some help?”

He waited and heard the sound of feet thumping up the stairs and towards him.

“What the hell happened?” Clint demanded as he and Nat burst into the drawing room, taking in the sight of Steve slumped in his chair.

“A very emotionally and physically draining channeling session,” Tony answered dryly, still clutching the doorframe to stay upright. “There’s a guest bedroom down the hall, can you two help me get him settled in there?”

Clint and Natasha exchanged looks and nodded, and Clint managed to maneuver Steve upright, waking him up just enough to get him standing. He put Steve’s arm around his shoulders and guided/supported him, leading him down the hallway. Nat did the same for Tony, and they managed to get Steve facedown on top of the covers of one of the beds after a moment’s struggle.

Tony was relieved when they dropped him off in the master bedroom, leaving him be to undress and climb under the blankets.

Wanda poked her head in to check on him and let him know they’d lock up, and then left him to sleep it off, and he quickly drifted off after that.

He woke to the smell of cooking sausage.

Tony rolled out of bed, feeling relatively well-rested, and followed his nose out into the hallway, down the stairs, and into the kitchen. Steve was making breakfast at the stove, back to the doorway.

“Hey,” Tony said, grinning. “Feeling better?”

Steve’s shoulders stiffened and he nodded slowly. “Yeah,” he said eventually. “Mostly. I’ll feel even better after I eat.”

Tony raised his eyebrows and shuffled in, making a beeline for the coffeemaker. “Ah, sweet bubbling elixir,” he crooned, pouring himself a mug.

Steve snorted as Tony quickly made for his preferred spot at the kitchen counter. There was a less-awkward silence as Tony slurped at his coffee and Steve used a wooden spatula to sweep the sausages onto a plate.

“I. Uh,” Steve put the plate down in front of Tony and stood there, on the opposite side of the counter, looking abashed. “I’m sorry for passing out last night. Didn’t even make sure you were okay.”

Tony flapped a hand at him. “Don’t worry about it.”

“And I’m sorry my former fiancee possessed you in order to confront me because I’ve been refusing to talk to her for the past few… years.” Steve’s cheeks were stained with a persistent blush, and Tony found it rather endearing.

“I’m not angry about it, Steve.” Tony snagged a sausage off of the plate and popped it into his mouth. “I think you needed it.”

Steve sighed and slumped forward, his mouth in a very thin line. “I don’t think I’d ever have thought myself ready for it.”

“No one is ready for this kind of thing,” Tony pointed out. “Even when we know in advance and make our peace with it.”

“But I’m a psychic. I work with ghosts almost _every day_.” Steve scrubbed a hand through his hair, wincing. “I do this for people for a living.”

“You know, my therapist has a therapist of her own,” Tony said, trying for a casual tone. “She says sometimes all of the stress and anxiety she helps her patients work through can start building up on her mind, so she sometimes needs help detoxing for _herself_.”

Steve stared at him, his forehead crinkled in confusion. “So?”

“So,” Tony licked the sausage grease off of his thumb, and noticed Steve’s eyes flicking down to his mouth and back up again. “Sometimes even the professionals need professional help. Or amateur, in this case.” He winked.

Steve gulped, and his Adam’s apple bobbed.

Tony shrugged and picked up his coffee mug again. “Honestly, I don’t blame you for anything. Not for hesitating to let go, not for Peggy needing a channel, not even for having to help Clint and Nat drag your heavy ass to bed.”

Steve’s face finally cracked in a smile, and Tony pushed the plate towards him.

“Thanks,” Steve said, taking a sausage. “For everything. Not just the food.”

“You made it,” Tony pointed out. “And you’ve been helping me for almost a year. I’m happy to reciprocate.”

They sat in the kitchen, munching on sausage and just chatting - Steve ragged on Tony for not having a variety of foods in his fridge - until Clint, Natasha, and then Wanda showed up for the day. After a morning of more furniture rearranging and tech setting up, Sam arrived with lunch. They discussed advertising their new premises, Steve attempted to bring up paying rent, and everyone made awful jokes with terrible puns.

For once, no uninvited drop-ins arrived; the atmosphere was peaceful and relaxed, and Tony found himself really enjoying it all.

Yeah. He could get used to having the house filled with the voices of the living again.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is pulled from the song "The Futurist" by our very own Robert Downey, Jr.
> 
> The sequel proper is coming, guys! It involves astral projection, more possessions, a poltergeist, and (gasp) romance?!


End file.
